Hate Me Not
by Caeyle
Summary: Legolas and Gimli look past their differences and realize dwarves and elves aren't so different after all.


~*~ Hate Me Not By Caeyle ~*~  
  
Rated G Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they all belong to Tolkien.  
  
New Version: Legolas POV, and minor editing in the Gimli POV  
  
  
  
Legolas wandered aimlessly among the trees of Lothlorien; silent, not singing as he was wont to do. The darkness had lifted, but Mithrandir was gone. Gone forever, dead. Now that there were not other more pressing matters to deal with, the loss weighed heavily on his mind. Faintly he could hear elven voices raised in song, but not merry, a sad sorrowful tune. And so it should be, for Mithrandir was loved by all elves. Try as he might, though, he could not bring himself to sing with them. Song to him seemed to be for happy occasions, not for the mourning of friends. The terror and fear created by the balrog, the strong commanding voice of Gandalf. it was too much to be expressed with song.  
  
Legolas' mind wandered to his other companions, as his feet wandered around different trees. So different, they all were. Aragorn, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry, Boromir, Gimli. Gimli. He, of all others, needed more thought. He was strange, even more so than Aragorn. Maybe it was because he had met Aragorn a few years back. Maybe it was because he had never known a dwarf before. Thranduil, even with his love of gold and jewels, had no love for dwarves.  
  
The few dwarves Legolas had met seemed coarse and unyielding, greedy and stubborn, selfish and arrogant. Maybe the same could be said of elves also. We are both concerned for our own kind, both think our kind is the best race, both want the best for our own kind. Maybe dwarves and elves were not so different after all. Maybe they were very different from each other. He had not had much contact with dwarves.  
  
One thing he was not taught about dwarves was very noticible in Gimli. He was a young dwarf, proud and strong, with a true heart untouched by evil. He would not leave any of us to die if he could help it. Not even if it were I, Legolas thought. For all of his harsh words, he would not leave me to die if he could save me, I am sure of it. It was that pure good that drew Legolas to Gimli. Now he knew why Elrond had chosen Gimli.  
  
It was useful to have Gimli as an ally. Legolas wondered what it would be like to have Gimli as a friend. His friend. Galadriel had caused him to see that he had wanted Gimli as a friend all along. Perhaps he would be rejected, Gimli had been subjected to the same prejudices against elves as he had been against dwarves. But still, it surely would hurt not to try.  
  
  
  
"Gimli son of Gloin." Gimli turned sharply toward the direction of the voice, hand dropping down to rest on his axe hilt. He was young, but trained well for battle. Besides, all of the elves made him uneasy. You never knew what they might be thinking. After seeing who it was, he turned back to the window, relaxing somewhat.  
  
"Go bother someone else, elf," he said harshly. After awhile, he looked from the window, feeling that uncomfortable feeling of being closely watched. Legolas was still there, sitting: knees brought up to his chest, his chin resting lightly upon them. With annoyance he noted the elf's green eyes were fixed unblinkingly on him, wearing a strange expression, almost as if he were lost, longing, but something else also.  
  
After a moment of staring, Gimli crossed his arms over his chest and broke the eye contact. "Why do you look at me like that?" he demanded.  
  
Legolas brought his head up, fingering his braid, almost as if reassuring himself before replying. "Why must you hate me so?" he asked softly, standing up.  
  
The answer was not the one Gimli expected. The question made him angry for some inexplicable reason. "It is your kin that ridicule the dwarves, deem them untrustworthy," he said heatedly.  
  
"I deny it not," said Legolas, fair face clouding with regret, green eyes darkening. "Yet I wish it were not so."  
  
"What do you mean?" Anger surged through Gimli, anger that he could not understand. It was simply just there. "You would have cheerfully fought to the death with me a few weeks ago."  
  
"Is that the truth? Mayhap you are exaggerating. Or would you have fought me?" Legolas did not seem angry, rather questioning. Then he paused, before speaking again, in a softer tone, almost whispering. "I apoligise for any words you might deem insulting, Gimli."  
  
Gimli scanned Legolas' face for any hint of teasing, and although he found none, he still was skeptical. An elf apoligising to a dwarf? He recalled his father's words: Be wary of the elf, they are a deceiving people. Do not let him trick you with fair words, to afterwards betray you. "You mock me with your words."  
  
"No, but you scorn me with yours," Legolas finally said. There was no trace of anger, as Gimli would have expected, only regret and sorrow. Gimli would have strode away then, but the expression on Legolas' face rooted him in place.  
  
"What are you getting at?" Some of the anger had dissapated, replaced by curiosity. Maybe the elf was trying to trick him. But why?  
  
"Dislike me if you must," said Legolas, bowing his head slightly, as if suffering a defeat, his eyes downcast, "Dislike me if you must, but hate me not."  
  
Gimli's heart softened slightly at the words. Do not be tricked, do not let him trick you. But a larger part of him said this elf was being sincere. "As hard as I try," he said, feeling Galadriel's knowing gaze piercing into his soul once again, "I find I can not truly hate. you."  
  
Legolas looked up again, eyes filled with hope- shining starlight. It was that look that made Gimli forget all his father's warnings, all of his advice. "Dwarves and elves have been enemies for years, maybe even for ages. Our kin may never reunite, but I ask you this: Will you be my friend? There is a greater enemy than Sauron- hatred and misunderstanding."  
  
If it were any other elf, Gimli would have mocked him then turned away. But it was true, and Legolas' words reached his very soul. And this was the elf he had traveled with from Rivendell to Lothlorien. And would be traveling much further with. "You speak true, Legolas Greenleaf," he said gruffly. "And you are different than any elf I have ever met before." He moved closer to grasp Legolas' hand in his own. "Friends," he whispered. "For I think we shall have much use of friendship in the days to come."  
  
At that moment, it felt as if a dark shadow had lifted, one neither knew was there. And it seemed that all troubles had vanished, and a new joy rose up. For each now had a friend: trustworthy, dependable, caring. For even though Gimli would not admit, he would not liked to have seen any of the fellowship die. Not even the elf. 


End file.
